


As You Wish

by perevision



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Season 3, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Pining, Political Alliances, Slow Burn, Space Opera, crazy romcom tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perevision/pseuds/perevision
Summary: Privately Keith is of the opinion that he’s pretty good at feelings. He has lots of them. He just doesn’t like them very much. They should stay inside where no one else has to be bothered with them, instead of being spread around and getting in the way of everyone else’s business, LANCE.He was sure that if anyone shared his feelings on Feelings, it would be Kolivan.





	1. while you were sleeping (Keith)

Years later, after they’ve hammered out the book deal, the movie rights, and contracts across several galaxies, Lance says that was the weirdest thing about it: that Keith, officially The Worst at Feelings, was the first to know.

Privately Keith is of the opinion that he’s pretty good at feelings. He has lots of them. He just doesn’t like them very much. They should stay inside where no one else has to be bothered with them, instead of being spread around and getting in the way of everyone else’s business, LANCE.

He was sure that if anyone shared his feelings on Feelings, it would be Kolivan. The Paladins could have ridiculous teenage drama and he and Shiro were barely able to manage their...their...whatever, what with working around Shiro’s trauma and sense of responsibility and Keith’s stupid helpless codependence on the only person who had ever cared about him without being forced. Allura and Coran were raised to be kind and open-hearted, and they were still wounded from the destruction of their world. Even _Voltron_ ran on Feelings.

Kolivan had probably been a soldier from birth, and a Blade longer than Keith had been alive. Kolivan would never let Feelings ruin his life.

\---

For the last time, Voltron defeats Zarkon’s Beast - and Zarkon in it, the sword a spire of light straight through the giant suit’s core. It’s barely solid even, just pure power, driven through the heart of an Empire and a no longer immortal Emperor.

Keith can feel Haggar’s scream, taste the buzz in his bones at the timbre of it. Haggar - Honerva - had poured her last shred of energy into this Beast, making it very nearly invincible. She had melded with it until her own essence formed its shell, her will and Zarkon’s powering its hideous strength and seemingly unstoppable stamina. 

They fought for dobashes, vargas. It felt like they fought for decaphebes. The Castle was close by, along with Galran vessels stolen and repurposed by the Blades and the rebel armies that had emerged to support them, keeping the Galran Imperial Fleet at bay. Coran’s voice was hoarse from screaming, Kolivan’s rough from shouting orders. In the meantime Voltron and Zarkon’s Beast fought on, Achilles and Ajax striving against each other in the wreck of solar systems.

The Fleet was defeated, soldiers captured or left drifting, drones drained of power. Keith was vaguely aware of the rebels rounding them up, Kolivan taking charge of the cleanup, directing Blades, rebels and prisoners as if he took over kingdoms every day. But Zarkon was tireless. Keith and Shiro’s hands clenched the shared middle lever in Black’s cockpit, expanded now to fit two pilot seats side by side, Shiro’s human left hand covering Keith’s right on the controls. He could feel Shiro and Black in his mind as if they shared a single body, but he could feel the others too. Allura was a blazing beacon in their minds. Lance ached everywhere but was determined to go on, his hope lightening his limbs and seeming to fuel Red. Pidge, buoyed by the recent reunion with their family, was constantly readjusting the shield to bear against the fantastic weight of Zarkon’s mace, their mind working at a million lightyears a minute. Hunk was crying, his whole body tingling with a fear that would have crippled anyone else, but his hands were steady as he directed the shoulder cannon when they needed it and kept his Yellow surging against the force of the Beast.

They were silent as they fought, with the occasional growl or gasp escaping. Shield met the crash of mace, armoured forearm the clang of sword. Shots were fired, fired again, and endured. 

Keith was weakening, and so were the others. Allura and Shiro seemed fueled by righteous anger and the thirst for victory. But Keith’s fingers were beginning to tremble around Black’s controls, and he could feel Lance going numb and Pidge’s heart thumping out of their chest. 

‘I’m going to try something,’ Allura’s clear voice rang in the cockpit. Keith nearly lost his grip; he had almost forgotten what words sounded like. The glowing eyes of the Beast stared into Voltron’s face, right at Shiro and Keith. It felt like Zarkon was grappling directly with them, almost as much a part of them as Black was. 

‘We’re with you, Allura,’ Shiro said. Keith could only nod and hope the other Paladins were attuned enough to feel it. They were: he felt assent pour in from the others.

‘Coran,’ she called. ‘Bear the Castle to about sword’s length of us, but keep us between you and Zarkon.’

‘Yes, Princess,’ came the reply, Coran’s voice barely audible now. He’d been the liaison between Voltron and the rebels, coordinating strikes and keeping fire off Voltron so they were free to engage the Beast. 

‘Paladins,’ Allura ordered next. They all straightened a little; Shiro led Voltron, but they all knew who their commander was. ‘Get your Bayards ready. I’m going to channel the energy of the Castle through Voltron.’

‘Princess!’ Coran yelled, his voice cracking. ‘This is more dangerous than healing the Balmera! Voltron’s charge will _pull_ the energy through you - some of the most powerful Alteans in history have been killed channeling half of that!’

‘Coran, the next time I need you to remind me very loudly how easily I can die, I will ask,’ she snapped. ‘Have some faith!’

Keith couldn’t help but smile. Shiro caught his eye, and the wave of fondness and affection behind his smile buoyed Keith like a drink of Nunvill. Hunk actually barked a laugh.

Zarkon caught their sudden lift in mood. ‘You dare laugh?’ he roared. ‘I will _destroy_ you!’ His weight bore down heavier than ever, his rage and Haggar’s magic crackling along Voltron’s limbs. One great hand tightened its grip on Voltron’s right wrist, claws digging in behind Red’s head. Lance screamed.

‘Paladins!’ shouted Allura. But the lions were ahead of them: Shiro’s Bayard rose in the dashboard, installed dead center where they could grasp it together.

‘Coran! Princess!’ Kolivan’s voice broke in. ‘Prince Lotor has broken free and is trying to get to the command ship! We must recapture him or he will re-form the fleet!’

‘You have to take care of it,’ Coran answered without hesitation. ‘Take the pod and get to the nearest fighter. Take Lotor down. I have to help the Princess.’ Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, felt the tension ease in Shiro’s shoulders. He felt joy pour into Allura like Quintessence.

‘Understood.’ There was a note in Kolivan’s voice Keith hadn’t heard before. Even with Lance’s pain vibrating through them all, the quiet tone struck something in him. ‘I will not fail you.’

‘Thank you, Kolivan.’ Allura’s voice was warm, truly sincere for the first time since the Blade had knelt at her feet after Keith’s Trials. ‘We won’t fail you, either.’

The Castle roared towards them, Voltron swinging its body between it and the Beast. Zarkon reared back, but Voltron locked them into position by vanishing the shield and grabbing the Beast, the Green Lion’s teeth forcing back the mace. It was a gladiator move, the muscle memory transmitted through them all by Shiro. 

‘The Castle is in position, Princess!’ Coran said.

Zarkon shouted something; Haggar’s energy seemed to increase, driving Lance’s pain more deeply through all of them. The Black Bayard glowed.

‘Paladins,’ said Allura. Her voice was strong, but faraway. Keith felt something building in her, like a breath drawing in. ‘On my word, take your Bayards and drive forward with all your strength.’ She paused as they all agreed. ‘Lance, are you ready?’

‘Tell me…’ Lance groaned as another bolt of energy drove through them. Then, incredibly, he laughed. It was barely a puff of breath, but it was definitely a laugh. ‘Tell me I’m a big damn hero.’

Allura laughed as well, tilting her head back in her pilot’s chair. ‘You are,’ she said, in her clearest voice, ‘a big. Damn. Hero.’

‘I want everyone to say it.’ Keith knew just what Lance would say next. ‘Especially Keith.’

Even with sweat running down his neck, exhausted, Keith found the energy to roll his eyes. But he smiled as he yelled along with everyone else: ‘Lance is a BIG DAMN HERO!’

‘Yesss!’ Lance took a deep breath, as if their ridiculous cheer really had healed him. ‘I’m ready, Princess.’

With a burst of energy, Zarkon broke their hold. The Beast drew back, raising the mace for a killing blow. But Keith had felt the light building behind their eyes since Coran took position. His throat and chest burned. Shiro threaded their fingers together.

‘PALADINS, NOW!’ cried Allura. They drove forward, seized their Bayards, and charged.

 _Now_ is the strength of their friendship, of their love (because no one should be ashamed, in this moment, to say it) drawn through them into a pillar of light - Quintessence, life force, cosmic energy, all one - and driven without resistance through everything in its way. Molecules part into atoms before the blade; electrons shear away. _Now_ is the force and impossible power of a wormhole’s edge, forged in light and love and the hope of millennia, carving through the heart of a galaxy-devouring Beast.

Haggar’s scream echoes through them as they bear forward, carrying Voltron and the Beast out of range of the Castle. But the blade doesn’t falter. Keith can feel its heat in every nerve, and he feels the strangely organic circuitry of the Beast begin to boil and unravel around it, dissolving.

Zarkon makes no sound, even as Haggar’s shriek changes, becomes a cry that almost sounds human - _Altean_ , thinks Allura, her mind-voice already weakening as the blade draws off her energy. The monster-shell explodes, white heat searing through orange flame but pouring past Voltron, leaving it unscathed. The explosion seems to echo, setting off aftershocks.

Coran’s voice comes faintly to them. ‘The command ship!’

Voltron lifts its head. The Imperial Flagship is also in flames. Some of the yellow light pouring from its collapsing shell seems...alive, streaming in all directions. A vast amount of it seems to be heading right for them.

‘It’s Quintessence!’ says Pidge. ‘The containers must have exploded too!’ 

The blade is fading. It flickers out as the Quintessence reaches them. Unlike the flame of the Beast’s explosion, it seems to flow _through_ them, bringing coolness in its wake. The sting of Keith’s cuts and shocks fade, the constant ache of his bruises and sprains disappear. Lance sighs in relief.

Shiro gasps and clutches his metal arm. Keith leaps out of his chair and is on that side in an instant, but Shiro’s arm hasn’t magically grown back. 

Shiro smiles at him, massaging his shoulder. ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore,’ he says. Keith knows that when he examines Shiro later, the brutal scarring around the arm will have disappeared. He wonders if all Shiro’s scars will be gone. ‘I guess it really is a part of me now.’

‘You’re still Shiro,’ Keith says simply, smiling back.

‘Guys, look!’ shouts Hunk. Keith dashes back into his chair, grabbing the controls.

The fire is fading; only splinters remain of the Beast, its destruction was so complete. The streams of Quintessence have formed a glowing pillar, solid in the middle but pouring upward and away in all directions - back towards the worlds they came from, Pidge guesses.

In the middle are two figures, limned in gold and softened by Quintessence and heat haze. They hold on to each other, heads close together, the broad one half-carrying the slender one. Long gray hair lifts, buoyed by the streams.

Zarkon raises his head. His eyes - his _eyes_ , with _pupils_ \- meet Shiro’s. Then he bends his head to Honerva’s again, and the two figures dissolve into golden sparks that dance away into space with the last of the Quintessence.

Silence reigns for a moment before Hunk says: ‘Was Zarkon _kissing_ Haggar? Gross.’

Keith is definitely in danger of hysterical laughter for a second, but that disappears when they all feel Allura lose consciousness.

\---

He wakes not in a healing pod, but in a cot that has, weirdly, been set up next to the healing pods and is hooked up to a lot of complicated machines with purple lights.

Specifically, _Keith_ is hooked up to said machines, tubes attached to his arms and under his nose. A tall Galra with a long coat and a tablet is making notations from the machines. Everything about...her? Them?...says doctor, except a knife with a familiar symbol strapped to their hip.

‘Ah, you’re awake!’ says Coran. Both Keith and the Galra doctor look up, startled, as Coran sits on the side of the bed and pats Keith on the shoulder. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Surprisingly...good,’ says Keith, rubbing the back of his neck. They’ve dressed him in a loose shirt with short sleeves and loose trousers, instead of the skintight healing suits. ‘For someone who’s just gone through...whatever that was.’ He looks around. Two of the healing pods are occupied: he can see Lance and Shiro. He tells himself Shiro is fine, he doesn’t need to get up right this second and go over there, and what could he do anyway? Paw at the pod like a sad cat at a goldfish bowl? ‘Did the Quintessence really heal us?’

Coran looks over at the pods. ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’

Keith gives up. Who is he fooling? ‘Can I get up? I need to…’ Go check on Shiro. ‘...stretch my legs.’

The doctor gives him an unimpressed look, a familiar expression even on an alien face. Keith has lied to a lot of doctors, and they usually knew it. ‘Very well,’ they say, relenting. ‘I will unhook the monitors.’

‘This is Ziarra,’ says Coran. ‘She was with Kolivan’s strike party, and he sent her to help when you all came in after the battle.’ 

Keith blinks up at the doctor when he feels a sting in the crook of his elbow. She’s removing a very long, large needle from his arm. It even looks pointier than the ones they use on Earth. She chuckles, a low rumble, when she sees him staring. ‘Other Galra usually have thicker skin,’ she explains.

 _Other_ Galra? Keith would leap on that, but right now he has his priorities. ‘Coran, how is everyone?’

He shamefacedly accepts Ziarra’s hand when she comes around the hospital cot to help him sit up. His feet are numb, and they tingle when he hits the floor and stands, bracing himself on her shoulder. Coran hovers nearby - something Keith usually hates, but he’s still too tired to pick a fight about it.

Something changes in Coran’s face, and Keith’s throat closes up. He pulls away from them and stumbles over to Shiro’s pod, almost crashing into it.

Shiro is pale and still, something Keith has seen too often since that wild night they left Earth. He can’t read Altean; he’s not a doctor. But he’s seen Shiro in this pod often enough that he can recognize many of the symbols that indicate a baseline. From what he can make out, though, Shiro is mostly okay.

Ziarra comes up next to him, pointing with a claw at the readouts. ‘His recovery is proceeding normally,’ she confirms. ‘His brain activity indicates unusual exhaustion - I’m told that piloting your Lions is something of a mental challenge as well as physical, with a strong telepathic component. It sounds fascinating.’

The Black Lion. Zarkon never gave up trying to take control of Black, and Shiro always bore the brunt of his psychic attacks, defending both Black and Keith. No wonder he’s always exhausted after every battle. Keith bites his lip and tells himself touching the glass would be pointless and sappy. Lance and Pidge would tease him for being such a war wife. (Keith feels like he should mind that more than he does.)

Keith looks over at the other pod. ‘What about Lance? Is he okay?’ It’s weird to see Lance so quiet and calm-looking while he’s healing. He’s usually all over the place, whether fighting or celebrating. If he doesn’t have his headphones and eye mask, he’s a restless sleeper who kicks - they found that out after one too many planetside missions.

‘As with the Black Paladin, I am unfamiliar with human physiology, but from what I’ve taken from the readouts - ‘

‘He’s fine,’ Coran breaks in, shooting Ziarra an apologetic look. Her hackles had risen at his interruption, but they settle as Keith watches. ‘It’s Allura. The pods can’t help her; she wasn’t wounded, but that last charge drained her almost completely. We can’t wake her up.’

Keith stares at him. Now that he’s looking, he notices Coran’s spiffy Altean uniform is wrinkled, his hair and moustache dull. There are dark circles under his eyes.

Ziarra makes a strange noise. ‘The other Paladins are with the Princess in her bedchamber. Kolivan guards her suite - I’m sure I don’t know what against, but…’ she shrugs. Galra have large and limber shoulders; the shrug is very expressive, but of what Keith isn’t sure.

He tries to lunge forward but nearly falls into Ziarra and Coran’s arms instead. ‘I want to see her.’

He follows Coran to a tiny elevator near the room where King Alfor’s memories were stored, which takes them up to the royal floor. The Paladins have only been this way a few times - mostly when Allura was recovering from some crazy magic working like healing the Balmera and couldn’t get out of bed. 

Maybe now that the Empire was defeated, they didn’t need so much recovery time. Keith would be super grateful if they could all just stop getting hurt. Somehow he doubts that's going to happen just because the war is over.

A huge figure lurks in the corridor outside the double doors to Allura’s suite. Ziarra makes that strange noise again, half growl, half snort.

‘Kolivan,’ she says. ‘Didn’t I tell you to go take a bath and a nap? This place is nice enough to have a bed your size somewhere.’

The figure straightens, a ragged braid slipping from its usual neat coil round the neck. ‘Ziarra,’ Kolivan growls back. ‘Didn’t I tell you to stay with the cub?’

‘ _Excuse_ me,’ says Keith, leaning into Kolivan’s line of sight. 

The Galra leader doesn’t startle, just quirks a smile. ‘Forgive me, Keith. In Galra years, you would not be long out of the creche. I’ve seen you fight, I know better, but…’ He shrugs, his face settling into its usual grim lines as he glances toward the door. ‘So many of us have been lost. We want to hold on to those who are left.’

It may be the longest speech Kolivan’s ever made that wasn’t mission related. Keith hesitates, then reaches up to touch Kolivan’s shoulder like he does with Shiro.

‘You haven’t slept,’ he says. ‘How long?’

‘It has been almost three days since the battle,’ Kolivan replies, not meeting his eyes. ‘I needed to supervise Lotor’s imprisonment, and that of his generals. I arrived last night.’

‘And stood guard ever since, even though you’re dead on your feet,’ snaps Ziarra. ‘Leader. Go to bed. The Princess will be here--’

‘I will _not_ \--’ Kolivan snarls, startling all of them. Keith stumbles backward, but Ziarra grabs his elbow before he can trip. ‘Thanks,’ he mutters.

Kolivan looks guilty, and then torn, his yellow gaze darting between Keith and the closed double doors. His huge hand closes deliberately around Ziarra’s wrist. ‘You will come find me if there is any change,’ he says.

They stare at each other. Then Ziarra dips her head. ‘Of course.’

‘Good. I will find a place to rest. Go to the Princess.’

Keith stares at him as he stalks down the corridor. He turns to Coran. ‘That was weird, right?’ he demands. ‘I’ve never seen Kolivan make...faces.’

Coran is also staring, but he shakes himself. ‘Well, we’ve all been run a bit thin lately,’ he says, going for the Understatement of the Year. He pushes open Allura’s door. ‘Come on.’

‘I will take his place,’ Ziarra says, literally placing her back against the same spot she just kicked Kolivan out of. Keith thinks she looks a little smug.

They walk through a sitting room which looks like the tea room in the five-star hotel Keith worked at one summer. Allura’s bedroom is the same, all silk embroidery on cushions and curtains and even the walls, with real wood furniture instead of the utilitarian plasteel stuff in the common areas of the castle. The lights are turned low, giving Keith the weird feeling that they’re back on Earth, but skipped a few hundred years in time.

Allura is too still in the huge bed, her silver hair all around her, her breathing shallow and slow. Pidge and Hunk are sitting on one side, Pidge working on a tablet with a holo screen and Hunk holding a bowl of ice water with a soaking cloth. As Keith comes up he squeezes it out and places it on Allura’s forehead.

‘Her fever’s mostly gone, but she's still pretty--’ Hunk breaks off when he sees Keith, and hastily sets the bowl on the nightstand to jump up. ‘Keith! Hey, buddy!’

It isn't often Keith gets hugged by people in public, especially people who aren't Shiro, but Hunk’s hugs are always a pleasant surprise. He just never knows what to do when this happens. ‘Um...hi.’ He needs to say something else, something...nice? ‘I guess we're, uh, alive.’

Hunk bursts out laughing, wiping the corners of his eyes. Pidge grins at him from their armchair.

‘Same old Keith,’ they say, and to his surprise, sets down their tablet to come over and hug him too. ‘Yep, we’re alive. Feels good, huh?’

‘You hungry, bud?’ Hunk asks before Keith can reply. He’s already heading for the door. ‘I made you something, lemme just go heat it up. Kolivan says Galra Keith needs a lot more meat than regular Keith and _no one_ should have to spend three days on a drip feed -’ 

And he's gone. Keith comes up to the bed while Pidge resumes their seat. Allura’s face is slack, her usual calm concentration drained away. Her skin isn't pale like Shiro's, but it looks papery, dried out, with a blueish tinge. Keith thinks he could almost see a glow under it, like the lights of the Castle, but maybe it's an after effect of looking at that energy blade for so long.

‘What's wrong with her?’ Keith asks. He doesn't touch her hair because you don't do that without permission, but he smooths the pillow a bit.

‘We don't know.’ Pidge pauses to stare at Allura for a second, then resumes typing furiously. ‘We had her in the healing pod at first, but all readouts were normal and it kept releasing her when we tried to put her back in. I’ve got the readouts and I’ve been running analytics since. Kolivan’s got one of his research people looking through ancient texts on Altean physiology.’

‘Sacred Alteans walk a very delicate line,’ says Coran. He’s gazing down at Allura from the other side of the bed. There’s another big armchair there, with a blanket in it. Keith figures he got about as much sleep as Kolivan. ‘They can channel some of the most powerful magic in the universe, but they must use their own life force to do it. Some of them burned themselves out.’

Keith’s legs are beginning to wobble. He sinks down onto the big soft footstool Hunk left. ‘What can we do?’ He’s expecting his least favourite answer and isn’t disappointed.

‘Wait,’ Coran says, taking one of Allura’s hands.

\---

Hunk comes back with plates of hot...pieces...cobbled together from the Castle reserves and Blade of Marmora rations, some sort of jerky. Keith can’t tell what they are but they’re hot and savoury, and he’s happy to inhale them and two hydration pouches.

He gives back Hunk’s seat to flop on a padded bench at the foot of the bed, curling up on his side with his arm pillowed under his head. Coran has fallen asleep by Allura’s bedside, still holding her hand. Pidge is still typing away. Keith tries to follow the scrolling numbers, but he’s losing focus.

‘Pidge?’ 

They look up. 

‘Have you heard from your dad and brother?’

A brilliant grin lights up their face. ‘I’ve been coordinating with their rebel group. They’re on their way and should be here in a few days.’

‘ ‘S good.’ It’s good not to be alone.

Pidge’s monitors hum, he can hear them and Hunk talking quietly. The food aroma from the now-empty bowls lingers, still smelling nice. He should be there when Shiro wakes up, but maybe there’s time to rest a second. His eyelids droop. Just for a second…

‘Paladin Keith,’ says a rumbling voice. Ziarra.

Keith blinks awake, his hand going automatically for the knife at his hip. Ziarra stares down at him, lips quirked in a small smile. Is that a fang…?

‘Good instincts,’ she says, ‘although I suspect you’ll fall off the bed if you try a strike.’ One clawed hand reaches out.

‘Sorry,’ mutters Keith, letting her help him up again. God, but he hates battle hangover.

‘Not at all - it’s a very Blade response, I approve.’ She pretty much sets him on his feet. ‘I thought it best to wake you before Paladin Shiro and Paladin Lance’s healing cycles concluded. The pods will open in a few dobashes.’

That wakes Keith up the rest of the way. He hurries out of Allura’s room - Pidge and Coran are gone, but Hunk is snoring, head pillowed on Allura’s nightstand - and down to the elevator, leaving Ziarra to stand watch. Thankfully the food and nap have done their work and he doesn’t need any help, although he still has to lean on the wall briefly on the way down. 

Pidge is standing by the pods, no gadgets in hand for once. They eye him dubiously as he stops next to Shiro’s. ‘You’re not planning to _catch_ him, are you?’

He frowns at them. ‘Of course? These pods aren’t designed very well, people could break their nose falling out of--’ 

There’s a cascade of blue sparks, and Shiro lets out a little sigh as he stumbles forward. As always, Keith is ready to catch him.

Or...he thought he was. 

His knee buckles as Shiro’s full weight hits, and Keith yelps as they tumble to the ground. He just about manages to get himself between Shiro and the castle floor, which means he lands with a thump on his back and _then_ Shiro falls on top of him, knocking the breath from his body. 

There should be silence at this point, if only for comedic effect, but instead there’s the steady cackle of Pidge absolutely _losing it_.

When Keith opens his eyes he sees Shiro braced over him. There’s a long line of warmth all down Keith’s body where the healing suit presses against him. It doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, or in Keith’s case the memory.

‘My hero,’ Shiro says, smiling.

Keith can only blink up at him, and to his horror his eyes get hot and his vision blurry. This is Shiro: happy, safe and home. Not dead, not hurt, not taken away, not a clone or brainwashed or possessed. His Shiro.

No sooner has Shiro helped him sit up than they’re hugging. He doesn’t know who reached out first. 

‘I don’t believe this!’ Lance protests. They look at him, leaning on Coran but pointing right at them with dramatic indignation. ‘How does _Keith_ get the big romantic reunion? Where’s Allura? Get me back in the pod so I can swoon into _her_ arms.’

He stares back at their faces. ‘What?’

They get Shiro and Lance briefed and take them up to Allura’s room. It says something that Lance doesn't even try to flirt, just greets Ziarra politely in response to Coran’s hasty introduction. He doesn’t say anything when he stops at Allura’s bed, either. Keith had sworn to himself that if Lance made a Sleeping Beauty joke somebody would lose their teeth, but Lance just looks down at her, and then turns around and looks at _them_.

‘But...she _has_ to wake up,’ he says. ‘How could we say we saved the world, if we lose the princess? That’s not how it _works_.’

Keith has no answer. Shiro is just staring at Allura, face drawn in grief as if they’ve already lost her.

He blinks. Someone is growling in the corridor; faintly but just on the edge of hearing. He leaves Shiro and Lance to get caught up and ventures toward the outer doors.

‘...told you to sleep! Leader, as your doctor I shouldn’t even allow you out of bed!’

There’s a low, short mutter.

‘What do you mean, can’t?’ Ziarra’s voice isn’t very good for spying; despite the natural growly tones of Galra, her words are clear and her voice carries.

Kolivan’s voice is much lower, softened to deter eavesdropping, but it sharpens as he growls again, ‘I _can’t_! You saw what she did! You see how she is now, how do you expect me to--’ He breaks off as Keith emerges into the corridor. ‘Keith.’

‘Hey.’ They’re both pulling back a little. Ziarra looks calm enough, but Kolivan’s ears are laid back and his hackles visibly settle - slowly - as he straightens into his usual stiff pose. ‘Is everything okay?’

Neither of the Blades reply. Ziarra is still frowning, but she doesn’t challenge Kolivan again.

‘Um.’ Keith is so bad at this. He doesn’t know why Kolivan is cranky, unless it’s just lack of sleep, in which case why wouldn’t he sleep? Unless he was worried. ‘Do you...want to come see Allura?’

That...was a flinch. Kolivan definitely flinched at Allura’s name. What the hell. 

‘What I want…’ Kolivan says, and stops. He looks at the double doors, and goes all stiff and leader-like again. ‘It is best, perhaps, not to enter the Princess’s chambers. If…’ He also _definitely_ just clenched his fists, just for a second. ‘ _When_ she wakes up, the last thing she needs to see is the face of an enemy.’

Keith stares. Ziarra also seems to be freaking out a bit; she’s right up against the wall with her arms tightly crossed.

‘Kolivan,’ he says. ‘We all know you’re not an enemy.’

Kolivan just gives him a long look. His long grey scar is stark across the red and lavender fur of his face; his braid hangs half-loose, as if he’d slept on it.

Okay, so Keith might not want to wake up to a Galra looming over him if he’d been fighting them for half his life. Witness his reaction to Ziarra.

‘Fair enough,’ he concedes. ‘But once she’s up, she _will_ want to see you.’

No response. Keith nods to Ziarra and goes back inside, his head spinning like he’s just got out of a pod himself. He hears Ziarra say ‘Leader…’ and Kolivan cut her off.

When he gets to them, Shiro and Coran are figuring out shifts. Keith tries to process all of it: Allura in limbo, none of them sure when she would wake up ( _If_ , says Kolivan’s voice in his head, bleak and heavy - Keith shoves it away), all of them debilitated and hiding out in her room like children, and the two Galra outside.

Kolivan is acting weirder than Keith’s ever seen him. After they lost Shiro and Kolivan lost Antok, he was grimmer and quieter than ever, only speaking when spoken to, a black spectre at their meetings that vanished whenever he wasn’t needed. Keith hadn’t noticed a lot then, being pretty devastated himself, but he did remember. He wasn’t like this: twitchy, snappish, _defensive_. 

They’ve brought in more chairs and the sofa from the sitting room. Shiro is nestled at one end of the sofa, which is pushed up under the single window; Pidge is curled up like a cat on the other end working on their analytics.

Shiro smiles up at him, stretching an inviting arm over the back of the sofa. Keith sinks down and buries his head in Shiro’s shoulder. ‘Good to have you back,’ he mumbles, their magic spell.

Shiro kisses his hair. ‘Good to be back.’

When he looks up, Pidge is smiling a little at the two of them. ‘What?’ he demands.

They smirk. ‘Nothing. You two are kind of cute. I didn’t expect it, that’s all.’

‘I’m too tired to be embarrassed right now,’ he mutters, curling up into Shiro. ‘Just wait till I get my strength back.’

There’s a brief glow of light from the bed, and a yelp from Lance. Downstairs in their hangar, Red roars.

Keith meets Lance’s startled eyes. ‘What did you do?’

‘I don’t know!’ Kolivan and Ziarra are at the door, just as alarmed. They all cluster around Allura’s bed, except for the Galra who keep a safe distance. She looks a little better; the blue undertone has subsided. 

‘You must have done _something_ ,’ Keith insists. Lance, predictably, bristles.

‘Listen, you--’

‘We don’t have time for that now,’ Shiro cuts in. ‘Lance. Please. Walk us through exactly what you did, step by step, from the time you came up to the bed until that blue light appeared.’

‘Um.’ Lance turns red. Oh, that is not good.

‘What the hell, Lance!’ yelps Pidge. ‘You didn’t _kiss_ her, did you?’

‘Of course not!’ yells Lance. ‘What kind of weirdo do you think I am?’

‘A weirdo who’s seen every Disney movie ever and is addicted to romcoms,’ mutters Hunk. Lance turns to yell at him, too. Pidge argues further. Coran and Shiro try to make peace, but there’s a bit more panic in their voices than patience.

Keith turns back to the door - Galra or no Galra, they need a doctor’s opinion - but Ziarra is looking at Kolivan, not the Princess, with her ears back.

There’s a deep crease between Kolivan’s heavy eyebrows as he stares toward the bed. His fists are clenched, the muscles in his arms tightly corded. He visibly forces himself to calm, taking a deep breath and looking down at the floor. 

Keith opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He knows that look. He knows how that look feels from the inside. It’s the feeling he got when the Kerberos mission was lost, when he broke into a Garrison tent and recognised the still body on the gurney. It’s the lump in his throat every time he’s stood by a healing pod or an empty pilot seat. It’s the fear of losing someone that he’d never even been allowed to have.

‘Keith!’ It’s Pidge. They’re standing right by Allura’s pillow, Hunk, Lance and Shiro ranged around the bed. ‘C’mon, we need you for this.’

He comes up to stand between Lance, on the other side of the bed with Coran, and Shiro at the foot. The padded bench and chairs have been pushed aside so they can stand as close as possible. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I think…’ Pidge bites their lip. ‘Listen, I’m not _sure_ , but...you know how Allura kind of pushed her magic out from the Castle through Voltron?’ They all nod. ‘I think...the Lions can maybe put some of that energy through _us_ into her. But we have to be touching. _Lance_ ,’ they turn insinuating, ‘found that out by _stroking_ her, like a big creep.’

‘I’m not a creep!’ Lance says, real hurt in his face. ‘Hunk said she’d had a fever and I wanted to check! I was _worried_!’ His voice cracked. ‘I was _scared_. I don’t want to...we just got rid of Zarkon, I don’t want anybody else to die. If she dies it’ll be like we lost anyway.’

‘She won’t die,’ promises Shiro. ‘We won’t let her. Pidge, tell us what to do.’

What they have to do is hold hands - Keith links Shiro’s large, callused fingers with his left and awkwardly takes Lance’s well-moisturised palm in his right. Shiro takes Allura’s right hand and Pidge takes her left, closing the circle. The blue Castle light rises in her chest immediately, and Keith knows that it hadn’t been his imagination earlier. The Princess needs the Paladins, and the Lions, to heal.

‘Skin contact,’ whispers Pidge. ‘Hunk, you were wiping her forehead and it brought down her fever, but we didn’t directly touch her, so she couldn’t access the power.’

The colour rises in Allura’s face, but her breathing doesn’t change.

‘It’s not working,’ Hunk hisses.

Keith remembers Red’s roar. Maybe they have to reach out to the Lions--

And he realises the others heard his thought, that they’re linked without Lions or training headbands. Pidge’s neck is stiff and Lance’s stomach growls and Shiro has that phantom itch in his palm again -

And Allura is with them, but drifting, her emotions a distant current. 

Black and the others roar, the power surging through them, and Allura startles. Her eyes open, a brighter, more intense blue shining out, and she gasps, jerking up as if waking from a nightmare.

The connection breaks, and they drop each others’ hands and stare around, the breath driven from them. 

Coran yells, ‘Princess!’

Allura turns to him, her face lit with joy, and holds out her arms like a kid. ‘Coran!’ she shouts, and they’re hugging like the first time they woke up, only they’re overjoyed instead of grieving. And then Allura reaches out to them and says ‘Paladins!’ and Keith doesn’t care that he’s a grown adult and a warrior, that in fact he doesn’t have childhood memories of this because no one has ever reached out to him like that before Shiro, he’s scrambling up the bed like a toddler, they all are, and they throw their arms around their laughing Princess and fellow Paladin and fall over into a pile yelling. Keith is definitely, _definitely_ not crying, although everyone else is, even Shiro.

They saved the universe and they’re all going to be okay.

When Keith finally thinks to look up, Kolivan and Ziarra are gone.


	2. you had me at hello (Kolivan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, he’ll enjoy sleep again. He is still needed now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw the trailers for season 4 in the middle of writing this; hence the new 'canon compliant until...' tag. How divergent will depend on whether or not I can finish this fic before the next season drops.

Kolivan will not allow himself into the Princess’s room until she asks.

It isn’t pride, despite Ziarra’s loud and often-aired opinion. The Voltron circle was forged long before their alliance with the Blades. He doesn’t know how he feels about being present even at the Princess’s awakening. The bond between the Paladins is legendary, but that...miracle... was unlike anything Kolivan had imagined. 

The Galra worshiped nothing but Zarkon for millennia and the Blades have faith in nothing but each other. That ritual, initiated by their scientist and powerful enough to break a deathlike coma...Kolivan’s only word for it is _sacred_. Their pure joy at reuniting seemed too private to witness; Kolivan had backed out of the room hastily, but not before he had caught the light in the Princess’s face.

He hasn’t slept yet. He doesn’t want to shut his eyes.

They don’t come out of the room for ages, but the first to emerge is Hunk, the nurturer, who forgets his usual nervousness around Kolivan and grins at him. ‘I’m gonna whip up something real quick,’ he says. ‘Want anything?’

‘How is she?’ asks Kolivan.

Hunk beams. ‘She’s hungry!’ He hurries down the corridor to the lifts.

Ziarra pushes herself off the wall. ‘Well, if you won’t nap, I will,’ she tells him. ‘That hybrid cub of yours is a bugger to monitor. Half the time I had to rewrite my estimates for his vitals. Where’s that spare room?’

He directs her, and she leaves with one more reminder to hydrate and feed himself if he won’t sleep. ‘And stim is no substitute for sleep!’

Kolivan doesn’t need stim to keep him awake. Sometimes on a mission you would have to stay moving for whole quintants without rest, and with stim nowhere to be found. He’s learned that he can stay up continuously through moderation: take a little food every few vargas, drink half a pouch of water or a third of a hydrating pack twice an interval between meals. Sit down while eating and for half a varga afterward, then get up and take a short walk before returning to watch (or the comms console, or your gun). If showers were available, take one every four vargas for the twenty hours of the quintant, shaking thoroughly afterward. 

It’s a bit harder with his ribs and...other things going on, but he’s had worse. Not that he’s been fool enough to tell the others.

One day, he’ll enjoy sleep again. He is still needed now.

Another figure slips out the door. Keith has gotten better at moving quietly. He was the softest-footed of all of them except Shiro, but he still hauled his own weight around like a growing cub when they first met. Kolivan wishes they’d all had time to train him properly, but he moves enough like a Blade now that they aren’t ashamed to call him one.

He will never be able to rid Keith of his inappropriate Earth habits, though. ‘Are you okay?’ the cub asks, moving closer than even Ziarra had. Kolivan retreats behind the mask of Leader - it might be easier if he had his actual mask, but he suspects that wouldn’t deter Keith.

‘You will have to be more specific.’

The brat smirks, crossing his arms. ‘All right, I walked into that. Specifically: are you still out here because you honestly believe someone will attack the Princess, while she’s surrounded by her Paladins, in her own castle, which she can control with her _mind_? Or are you just freaking out?’

The words are a mystery to him, but the tone is clear enough. He keeps his face stone still, the insinuation sliding off him like water. ‘You are all weakened by a battle that broke an Empire, using more power than anyone has seen in their lifetimes. You just woke your Princess through a psychic link with sentient machines, despite the fact that none of you come from a telepathic species. If there’s anyone left to plan an attack, they should strike now or in the next few days.’

A spark lights Keith’s violet eyes, the only hint of his Galra blood. ‘I’d like to see them try.’ 

Kolivan doesn’t tell him he has seen too many premature celebrations cut short by someone else’s better planning. It isn’t the time.

‘She’s not just our Princess, you know,’ Keith says, which...what?

The boy knows he’s caught Kolivan off guard, presses his advantage. Damn fast learner. ‘She’s not just our Princess now. The planets we’ve already freed were talking about forming an alliance, if we made it through. Others are going to join us.’

The hum of the ship - Allura’s ship, the last Altean home - grounds Kolivan. He focuses on it through the conviction in Keith’s voice.

‘Before the battle, Allura said, if we made it through, it was Voltron’s responsibility to forge peace. Whether we lived or died, ending the Empire would only be the start. The real work would be making sure peace would last this time.’

He stares down at Keith. Those are not a cub’s eyes. This boy has piloted the Red and the Black Lion, legendary beings neither creature nor machine, forged from comets and with minds of their own. He has stood faithful in the face of loss and uncertainty. He uses the word ‘honour’ like the Blades do - naturally and with conviction. They never taught him that; it was his when he sought them out. Shiro trusts him, this small fierce one who faced down twenty of the Blades with a pre-awakened knife and would have faced all of them, just to find a family. Ever since the mission where they lost Thace, Kolivan has trusted him too.

‘There aren’t any more Alteans,’ Keith tells him. ‘But Allura still has people. She has us. She’ll have more. We can build her a home again.’

There’s a sudden squeeze in Kolivan’s chest at the word _home_. He realises that when Keith says _we_ , he doesn’t just mean the Paladins and the adviser Coran. 

The thought almost chokes him. He knows what Keith means. He’s known since a mythical creation took him to meet a legend, and he understood that the war he had fought his whole life finally had a chance of ending.

Allura herself would certainly pass again into myth. Who knew what powers had awoken in her? If she did choose a partner, she needed someone that could walk in the light with her, someone to inspire her as she did others. Someone whom history would remember fondly, or at least impartially.

‘Has she spoken to you of this?’ he asks Keith, who shakes his head impatiently.

‘She says there’s work to do. She’s already planning a visit to the planets that were most hurt. The moon of Taujeer, the Puigians...there’s so much to fix. She hasn’t even got the strength to get out of bed yet, and she’s already trying to figure out how to help everyone else.’

‘Keith.’ Downcast eyes meet his again. ‘I think she is right.’ He holds up a hand as Keith opens his mouth, ruffling up like a full-blooded Galra. ‘Listen. This is bigger than us, and the Princess knows that. Peace is...all but unknown, to some of us. It needs time, and hard work.’

‘She’s been fighting this war for ever, and now they want her to fix their peace for them.’ Keith clenches his fists. ‘Don’t you want her to be _happy_?’

The last word is like a slap. It leaves him winded, and truly angry for the first time since the Trials, when an alien boy claiming to be a Paladin of Voltron showed up at their home with a stolen Blade. 

Keith sees it too, drawing back as Kolivan tries to control the rushing in his ears. He wants to snarl again, to claw a chunk off the door just to see Keith’s face, but they are outside the Princess's suite. She is awake now and her Altean ears will pick up what her Paladins cannot.

‘Do you think _I_ could make her _happy_?’ he hisses, almost in Keith’s face. ‘Do you pretend not to know what she sees when she looks at me? What _everyone_ sees?’

Keith’s eyes are wide and he’s backed up an arm’s length now. ‘She isn’t like that,’ he protests. ‘She knows you’re a friend.’

It takes much effort to pull away again, to straighten up and take a deep breath. Stars, he really is tired. His nostrils flare with another long intake, a slower breath out.

‘I am an ally,’ he says. ‘I was useful, and we were both desperate.’ He looks hard at the opposite wall instead of at Keith's face. ‘The Blade of Marmora will help the Voltron Alliance create the new Planetary Alliance, or Coalition, or whatever they choose to call it. We will serve, and then we will disappear, as we have always done.’ He thinks of birth records, of dates and places in files. ‘Perhaps some of my people will be able to return to their families.’

‘Allura needs you,’ Keith insists, refusing to learn.

‘Has she asked for me?’

‘She _will_.’

‘Kolivan?’ They both look up to see Shiro standing in the doorway. He’s frowning, but it clears when he sees Keith. If it had been up to him, Kolivan would have sent them on different missions long ago for their own and everyone else’s sanity, but apparently Voltron doesn’t work the same way any other military organisation does. Their Lion seems especially happy to encourage this codependence.

Keith softens immediately. ‘Shiro,’ he says, crossing to his partner. ‘Did you want something?’

Shiro smiles down at him. ‘I’m good,’ he says. ‘I thought Hunk might need some help in the kitchen.’

Keith’s eyebrows draw together. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he snaps, actually taking Shiro by his broad shoulders and turning him around. ‘You’re going to go and rest on the couch, and Pidge and I will go down and help Hunk.’

He leans back to shoot a last look at Kolivan before he disappears inside. ‘This isn’t over,’ he warns. Kolivan doesn’t bother to respond.

When Ziarra comes to relieve him two and a half vargas later, he tells her the good news.

A look of wonder comes into her eyes. ‘Just when I think they're out of surprises. Astonishing.’ She pauses, sniffing the air. What Hunk found to cook he doesn't know, but it smells delicious. ‘How is the Princess?’ she asks.

‘Fine,’ he mutters. ‘Tired.’ He is too. Something snapped while he was fighting with Keith, and now he can barely stay on his feet.

‘Leader.’ Ziarra puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You need sleep.’

He can't. Not yet. ‘I…’

A sharp pain hits him in the neck, and he roars, slapping a hand to the sting. It's too late. 

Ziarra puts the anaesthetic gun back in her belt, next to her luxite blade. ‘I’m tired of humouring idiot men,’ he hears her say through the descending fog. 

‘Insubordination,’ he mumbles, tongue too thick to finish forming the words. ‘Treason. Court...court martial…’

He's out before he can hit the floor.

\---

When he wakes up, he’s back in the enormous guest room that was no help in his first effort to sleep. He’s stretched out on the large bed again, only this time they’ve hooked up a drip and attached a blood pressure monitor to his arm. The constant ache in his chest is gone, or at least there’s a void where it should be, which means that anaesthetic was very potent and probably illegal to carry. Also, Vashli is sitting on the end of his bed. Their legs are crossed, their four hands resting on their knees, and they are _laughing_ at him.

‘Tell your wife she’s fired,’ Kolivan growls. ‘And court-martialed. Dishonourable discharge. In fact I should kick her out of an airlock for that stunt.’ 

At least he didn't dream. Thank the stars for Ziarra’s talent with chemicals.

Vashli howls and slaps their knee, white fangs flashing as they throw their head back. ‘Hey baby!’ they yell out the open door into the corridor. ‘Leader threatened to space you again!’ Two long index fingers wave in front of Kolivan’s nose. ‘Nuh-uh, Leader. You signed the waiver. Both of you and Antok _wrote_ the waiver, remember? She’s got the right to save you from yourself, by pretty much any means necessary.’’ 

Kolivan glares at them, then down at himself. ‘And what in the Pit is this?’

He was out of it enough that they got his armour off without him noticing. He’s in his under-armour trousers and nothing else, bandaged from the waist to just under his arms, so tightly he can barely move. Another bandage crosses his shoulder, covering the salve that numbs Lotor’s parting gift.

The grin drops off Vashli’s face. ‘ _That_ ,’ says his half-Unilu lieutenant, indulging themselves once more in aggressive pointing, ‘is keeping you still long enough to see the end of the war, you stubborn _ass_. Were you even planning on telling anyone you were hurt?’

‘Eventually,’ he mutters.

‘Ugh,’ Vashli says. ‘I’m surprised she waited so long.’ 

‘Out of line!’

Vashli bares their teeth at him. ‘You know what’s out of line? Not trusting your own people to have your back. Oh,’ they add as Kolivan picks up the sound of running footsteps, ‘updating your Paladin cub on your medical condition without your consent, that might be a bit out of line.’

Which is when Keith bursts in.

Kolivan doesn’t even know why he wants to soothe the boy. They were just snarling at each other in the hallway, for stars’ sake. And yet he’s still trying to find an explanation when Keith yells, ‘ _Four broken ribs_! And a _sword wound_! What the hell is _wrong_ with you!’

Both Kolivan and Vashli wince at his timbre. Earth voices can _cut_. 

‘Aaand that’s my cue,’ says Vashli, sliding off the bed and oozing away like the traitorous slime they are. ‘Nice to meet you, Paladin Blade! We can catch up later.’

Keith gives a vague wave as they vanish out the door. His teeth are tight shut, and he’s glaring at Kolivan with blood in his eyes. 

‘Cub,’ says Kolivan, trying for a reconciling tone.

‘You know, I’m really sick of people I care about nearly getting themselves killed,’ Keith growls at him, his tone and black expression at odds with the gentleness of his hands as he straightens the blankets and moves Kolivan’s drip closer to the bed, so the tube feed is slack and comfortable. ‘You were just yelling at me about how peace was hard work and how you were supposed to be _useful_. How is dying in Allura's castle useful?’

‘I am not dying,’ Kolivan defends himself. ‘My field dressing was effective, the wound had stopped bleeding vargas ago, and with my armour, the binding supported my ribs well enough. I’ve lived through much worse, believe me.’

‘Not helping, Kolivan.’ Keith checks the monitor (does he even know how to read Galran vital signs?). He motions toward the bed; its royal proportions have room for two people Kolivan’s size to share, so he doesn't need to move aside for Keith.

Kolivan nods; Keith sits on the edge, one foot tucked neatly underneath him and the other dangling. He reaches out to smooth the sheet, catches himself and stills with admirable discipline. 

‘ _Please_ don't die,’ he says. ‘We’re gonna need you just as much in peacetime.’

Kolivan says nothing.

Keith sighs. ‘You wanted to come back here and you didn't want anyone to stop you,’ he guesses. ‘Is that why Ziarra’s here? She figured it out?’

‘No,’ Kolivan says. ‘I brought her to tend to you. Shiro has told me that the healing pods are not as effective on you as the other Paladins, and we suspected you might need someone with more experience in Galra healing.’

The stricken look in Keith's eyes reaches a place in him that he’d thought had scabbed over long ago. The cub actually turns red. ‘Oh.’ He looks away, fiddling with his gloves. ‘Well, um, thanks.’

There’s a knock on the door to the corridor, and a wonderful smell wafts in. Keith rolls his eyes. ‘The door is _open_ , Hunk,’ he says.

But it isn’t Hunk who comes in carrying a tray - it’s a hovering drone, little more than a stick frame with two arms bearing an impressive amount of steaming food. Followed unexpectedly by the small Paladin Pidge.

Both of them stare at the drone, then at Pidge. ‘How long was I out?’ Kolivan asks.

Pidge grins. ‘More than half a quintant,’ they say. ‘Good morning!’

The drone opens a stand on the tray and sets it over Kolivan’s legs. Pidge pats it as it goes to hover next to them. ‘Aren’t they great? Hunk found some in galley storage.’

Kolivan’s mouth is actually starting to water now, but he’s lying too flat. Before he can struggle to sit up, Keith has an arm braced between him and his ridiculously soft Altean pillows. ‘Easy,’ the cub says, smiling.

‘Not a damn invalid,’ he mutters, but is surprised into silence when Keith gently lifts his upper body into a comfortable sitting position with no effort. The drone actually fluffs his pillows so he can lean against them without sinking, and Pidge settles on the side opposite Keith, pulling up his diagnostics as the drone prints out a spork and knife for him. He wonders if he’s woken up in one of those alternate realities Slav is always going on about.

The Yellow Paladin appears with hydration packs. ‘Comin’ through, guys!’ he says, thumping down on the bed next to Pidge. Kolivan puts an arm over his tray as things bounce, and quickly starts eating before things get any more disruptive. If he’s right and they go through a wormhole, or return abruptly to his reality, or he _wakes up_ , he might as well face it with a Paladin-cooked meal in his belly. 

‘What are you guys even doing here?’ Keith demands, as Hunk hands out the packs. Kolivan sips one cautiously - it’s smoother and a bit sweeter than Blade-issue, and goes very well with the protein- and fiber-rich meal.

‘Ziarra said she was tired of nagging him and wanted me to set up a real-time feed from his monitor to her tablet,’ says Pidge, tracking the scrolling numbers - at least Kolivan thinks they’re numbers; they’re translating from Blade-script to Earthian faster than he can read. ‘Besides, Matt and Dad are finally on the way, but their transport is so old or so messed-up it doesn’t have a connection, so I won’t hear from them until they get here, so I am understandably...going nuts.’

‘Going nuts,’ Kolivan mouths, trying the curious phrase. Keith blinks at him. Well, perhaps the anaesthetic hasn’t quite worn off, which is why he still feels no pain, but that’s not going to help him maintain what’s left of his dignity.

Keith takes pity on him and changes the subject. ‘And what about you?’ he snaps at Hunk.

Hunk is staring around at the embassy-standard appointments. There’s even a large false window similar to the Princess’s room, and the same wood or wood-imitation upholstered furniture. ‘I just heard there were rooms up here as nice as Allura’s. I didn’t even know they had other rooms. This is way nicer than the Paladin dorms.’ He snaps out of it and adds, ‘Oh! And Coran sent me to tell you that there are more rebel leaders coming with Pidge’s folks, to meet with us.’

‘What!’ everyone shouts. Keith and Pidge leap to their feet.

Their transport is here already? Kolivan means to set the tray aside and get up, anaesthetic be spaced, but Keith and Hunk catch his wrists. He glares at the Yellow Paladin first, but instead of flinching away like he used to, Hunk glares right back.

‘No you don’t, I cooked that food for you and it was super hard to find stuff in the stores that was manganese-rich enough. You don’t just dump that, it’s _rude_.’

Kolivan turns indignantly to Keith, who is biting his lip in barely suppressed humour. It makes him look his real age. A high pitched ‘Mmm-hmm,’ is all that escapes.

‘Anyway, they won’t be here for another quintant,’ Hunk adds. Keith and Pidge, who’s retreated to the foot of the bed, cover their eyes in frustration.

‘Hunk,’ Keith says very slowly. ‘What exactly did Coran say, in his words, from beginning to end?’

After more hedging and squabbles over whether Kolivan was going to finish his food, or even needed all this food in the first place, they finally get the whole story. Pidge had found her brother aiding the Tando nomads of the Valurian quadrant, having rescued their father and installed him as scientist with the Kythra, a more settled group of rebels. The Kythra had joined the Voltron Alliance later in the war and were valuable allies in the final battles, but the Tando did not have inter-galactic travel and were on the outskirts of the Empire. The Blades had finally managed to send a transport for them, and now Matthew and Samuel Holt and several Tando leaders were on the way to join the main Alliance and be honoured for clearing their whole quadrant despite being vastly outnumbered, not to mention facing Imperial garrisons with superior technology.

‘So they’ll be here tomorrow or the morning after, and Coran says although the Princess and Kolivan are both in recovery we’ll have to get ready to receive them. There’s rooms downstairs they can stay in, he says, although Matt will probably want to stay in one of the dorms near Pidge.’

‘Should the embassy not use these rooms for their intended purpose?’ Kolivan asks.

Hunk shakes his head. ‘There’s four of them coming, and only three extra rooms.’

Kolivan frowns. ‘That's not right. They ought to have this one; I can stay -’

‘You’ll stay where you are.’

Kolivan freezes instinctively, cursing himself. He's gone far too long without entanglements, and with this damn anaesthetic still in his system, he’s not ready to meet the Princess today. That Allura’s voice can command him the way it does is a crucial liability that the leader of the Blade of Marmora can't afford.

And yet.

Allura is standing in the doorway, chin up and posture perfect so it's easy to miss how much weight she's putting on the arm she's got slipped through Coran’s. Of course the way Lance hovers at her other side is a dead giveaway. Behind her are Ziarra and Vashli, their arms also linked, grinning shamelessly at him over the Alteans’ heads.

She's wearing a dress that he only recognises as a nightgown because of the floor-length blue robe she's thrown over it. Her hair is long and loose, just a small half-section braided away from her face. The colour and glow is back in her skin, banishing the deathly shadow of her coma. 

There seems to be just a little less air in the room, for some reason. ‘Princess,’ Kolivan manages to say. Ziarra’s grin gets toothier, and Vashli has to cover their mouth with one skinny hand.

Keith is biting his lip again. Kolivan is going to space all of them. ‘Shouldn’t your mate be here with the rest of your band?’ he mutters.

‘Shiro’s sleeping,’ Keith replies, blushing. ‘Don’t call him my _mate_ , oh my God.’

He turns back to grin at Allura, who looks particularly (attractively) stubborn. She steps away from Coran, and Lance immediately moves in with a ‘milady,’ that tries for smooth and comes out insolent. Allura rolls her eyes, but smiles as she waves him off.

Keith makes way for her as she comes to sit on the side of the bed. Blade training comes to the fore; not a muscle moves on Kolivan’s face, even as he is flat out panicking. He can’t sit up and there is a tray on his legs; the Princess has never even seen him out of armour and the Leader’s robe and now she’s here in his _bedroom_ and Ziarra hadn’t even left him a shirt - 

She smiles. It’s a little awkward, which he’s honestly grateful for; he wouldn’t know what to do if she were sweet to him instead of stern. ‘Forgive me for breaking protocol, Kolivan. I know how important the formalities are to you, but I did not want this to wait.’

It’s almost impossible to bow from a sitting position, but he does nod as deeply as he can. There’s a twinge beneath the bandages; the anaesthetic must be wearing off.

She places a hand on the sheets, as if bracing herself, and takes a deep breath. ‘I have not been...just...to you and your people,’ she says. ‘I distrusted you all from the beginning, at every step except towards the end, against the advice of my fellow Paladins. Not only that, I stood by while our other allies insulted you and spoke against your inclusion, despite the fact that the Blade of Marmora has been the most loyal ally and made the most sacrifices out of anyone in the Alliance so far.’ She lowers her eyes, pauses as momentum drains from her.

‘Princess,’ Kolivan says, wanting to exonerate her, to tell her that the Empire’s sins were not ones he expected her to forgive in either of their lifetimes, but she meets his eyes again and the words vanish.

‘We have both lost much, and I am not good enough to forgive those who took nearly everything from me,’ she says. ‘But I learned that there are still trustworthy people in the hardest of times, and I...I would be honoured if you and the other Blades,’ she looks back to Ziarra and Vashli, no longer smiling but holding tightly to each other’s hands, ‘would think of the Paladins, and Coran and me...as friends.’

Silence stretches in the room. Hunk fidgets, and Lance keeps looking back and forth at him and Allura and the other Galra, but Keith and Pidge and the others are all still, watching him.

An uncertain crease appears between Allura’s brows, and she begins to draw away. The breath rushes out of him and he reaches out to - gently! - rest his hand where hers is pressed flat on the bed.

‘It would be our honour, Princess,’ he says, ‘and our pleasure, to call you a friend.’

She smiles again, and this one isn’t stiff or awkward at all but shines like the Castle.

Her hand is warm, small, soft. He is _not_ going to pick it up and kiss it like some daft hero of ancient times. It would be ridiculous and humiliating. Also, he’s seen Lance try that sort of thing to bad results - Allura is perfectly capable of breaking the rest of his ribs. He forces himself to let go, gives her another clumsy nod instead.

She finally draws away. ‘I’ll let you rest. I still can’t believe you managed to fly here with those injuries.’

Kolivan winces as Keith yells, ‘You piloted a ship with _broken ribs_???’

He looks beseechingly at Allura, who laughs. ‘Coran told me,’ she says. ‘You can blame Shiro for Keith’s overprotective streak.’

‘Keith was a drama llama way before the whole Shiro thing,’ Lance teases. ‘You come here to mother Kolivan ‘cause your hubby’s asleep?’

Keith throws a hydration pouch at him. Fortunately it’s still sealed, so it just bounces off Lance’s head, but it motivates the rest of them to retreat and leave Kolivan to the wrath of a part-Galra Paladin a third of his size.

When the door closes behind them all, Keith seems to lose steam. He shakes his head and flops next to Kolivan, careful not to jostle him or lie on top of the IV tube.

‘You’re impossible,’ he mutters. ‘But I’d have done the same, if it were Shiro.’

Kolivan freezes again in the middle of taking a sporkful and stares down at him. Keith meets him with the same clear gaze as when Kolivan was snarling in his _face_. ‘You’re not gonna keep pretending I don’t know, are you?’

‘Insolent cub,’ he mutters.

Keith grins, looking the part. ‘I _told_ you she would ask for you,’ he says.

Kolivan groans and leans his forehead on the tray - or he would, except he gets that twinge again and locks up. Alarmed, Keith gets him rearranged on the pillows the way he was and takes the denuded tray. ‘You done?’

‘Please go,’ Kolivan replies. ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’ Keith chuckles and clears up with military efficiency. The drone left with Pidge, so Keith takes the tray away himself, balancing it on a hip to close the door.

Slowly, the lights dim - Kolivan suspects timers on them. He lies still for a while, gazing at the ceiling, and finally allows his eyes to close.

\---

Ziarra wakes him when the Blade ship hails them, and she and Vashli get him dressed and into a hoverchair that Coran found in infirmary storage. Now that the Castle isn’t diverting all of its power to defence (although the particle barriers are still on standby), new areas are opening up, revealing its function as a stronghold as well as battleship.

The docking procedure is more chaotic and full of banter than he’s used to, and Kolivan and the other Blades wonder more than once how this rowdy litter of cubs managed to become the fighting force that defeated a millennia-old Empire. Ziarra even asks Allura under cover of a particularly noisy moment if Earthians are _always_ like this.

Allura’s lips curve up in a sweet, wicked smile. ‘As often as they can get away with,’ she replies, eyes dancing. ‘It used to drive me mad, but I’m afraid I’ve picked up some of their terrible habits.’ She doesn’t sound like she regrets it.

It seems like ages until the airlock and ship doors open and their guests disembark. The Green Paladin bursts into tears as they throw themselves into the arms of their father and brother. Samuel Holt is wearing Kythran robes and seems much older than his children, but to judge how Pidge sobs as they trace his wrinkles, prison has aged him quickly. Matthew Holt’s resemblance to his sibling is so great that if not for his height they would look like twins.

Matthew’s reunion with Shiro is no less noisy than with Pidge, and he seems to have a talent for flustering his usually calm and gentle friend. Under his teasing the Black Paladin finally seems like the young man he was.

Some of the Tando delegation is familiar. Khenval, the _khuun_ of Clan Belet, Kolivan knows, and his son Sighar has just finished pilot training with the Blades and was allowed to man the helm this mission. Two younger clan leaders follow that he does not know, but then he sees the last, a matriarch who walks with a stoop now but wears a familiar pattern. Jaisa is the _khuun_ of Clan Resh and has just stepped down as leader, although her health seems to allow her this diplomatic voyage. To Kolivan’s gratification, they come right over after formalities with Allura to greet him and fuss over his injured state.

‘My old friend!’ says Khenval, gripping his forearm. ‘It’s so good to see you face to face. My granddaughters haven’t stopped asking when Uncle Vani is coming to visit them, and now that the war is over I can bring back an answer.’

Sighar laughs. ‘You can imagine how their father felt when the first words out of their mouth after I stopped hugging them were “Where is Uncle Vani?”’

‘They only like me because I’m tall and easily climbed,’ mutters Kolivan, but his pleased flush creeps up to his ears. He hadn’t realised Esa and Enna even remembered him.

‘I was grieved to hear of Antok’s death,’ Jaisa tells him, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘Ulaz and Thace and the others...we’ve lost so many. My daughter too with her whole raid group, was lost to the Druids.’

Vashli makes a pained noise. ‘We heard about Monkhtu. She was a good friend and a great fighter.’ They touch foreheads with Jaisa, as does Ziarra.

Kolivan looks up to see the Princess and the Paladins staring at him.

Hunk says in an almost reverent tone, ‘I didn’t know Kolivan had _friends_.’

Khenval chuckles. ‘In his travelling days, he was a very charming young man.’ Someone chokes; Kolivan suspects it's Shiro. ‘Quite popular, especially among our people.’ Sighar boggles at his father, scandalised. He’s not the only one. 

Kolivan covers his face with one hand. ‘Can we not talk about this now? Or ever again.’

‘If there’s alcohol on the ship, I guarantee nothing,’ Jaisa tells him. Ziarra _snorts_.

Allura seems to be staring blankly into space for a moment, and then rallies. ‘I-if the _khuun_ will accompany me? I’ll show you your rooms and we can have some refreshments before anyone has to talk politics.’

‘Dad, Matt, do you mind staying downstairs with us?’ adds Pidge. ‘The rooms aren’t exactly ambassador-worthy, but they all have their own bathrooms, and the beds are comfy. And you’ll be close by,’ they add in a small voice.

Samuel Holt hugs her. ‘Kiddo, you might have to put up with sharing for a while. I’m not sure I even want you two out of my sight for the next few days!’ Pidge laughs, their voice thick with tears again.

The ship’s captain - Dazkar, Kolivan remembers, who was with them at Keith's Trials - comes forward as Allura leads the Tando away. ‘Leader,’ he says. ‘I’ve brought the cryopod from Base as requested.’ He lifts a hand toward the bay doors; two Blades wheel out a purple healing pod with black fittings, the aesthetic opposite of the Altean pods.

Keith and Shiro were following behind as the rest filed out, but Shiro freezes, staring at the pod. Keith looks at it, confused, then at the other Blades.

Kolivan raises his eyebrows at Ziarra. She shrugs. ‘I requested one for the cub; I wasn't to know our leader would end up needing it first.’

‘ _No_.’ Everyone’s fur rises at the harsh note in Shiro’s voice. Keith stands still, hand on Shiro’s arm. Shiro is glaring at them, clenching his fists. ‘I know that thing. I’ve _been_ in that thing. How _dare_ you suggest putting Keith in there?’ Keith’s eyes widen.

Ziarra steps forward, and Shiro actually bares his teeth at her until she holds up both hands to show they’re empty. ‘Paladin Shiro,’ she says softly, as if to a frightened beast. Shiro’s eyes certainly track her like one. ‘Truly, I understand your concern. I have been in the Druids’ cryopods myself. But I swear to you, this one is ours. We stole it almost a decaphebe ago and made it safe. It is Blade tech and Blade programming - true Galra medicine, as true as we could make it. We would never entrust one of our own to anything with the taint of Druid magic, let alone our youngest member.’

Keith blinks at this news, then focuses on Shiro, who is still dividing his attention between Ziarra and the pod. Dazkar has moved in front of it, as if expecting Shiro to attack. His hand is on his blade hilt.

‘Shiro,’ Keith says, as softly as Ziarra. ‘Shiro, it’s okay. We trust them.’ He smiles a little at Kolivan, breaking the tension. ‘Besides, they’re making Kolivan go in it first.’

‘Thanks, cub,’ Kolivan responds in his dryest tones.

Shiro’s shoulders unclench fractionally, then he blinks, and lowers his hands. He reaches for Keith, who hugs him in an unusual show of public tenderness. ‘Sorry, everyone,’ he mutters. 

‘We take no offense,’ says Vashli mildly, although one of their hands is coming off a sword hilt at the same time as Dazkar’s. ‘We all have memories that are...difficult to leave behind.’

‘Yeah.’ Shiro takes off his helmet and rubs his face. ‘Just... maybe we’d like to know a little more about how it works before one of us goes in there.’

‘I’d be happy to explain the process,’ says Ziarra, ushering them into the corridor. Vashli lets out a relieved breath and pushes Kolivan’s chair after her. ‘Ready for proper healing?’ they ask him. ‘The sooner you get those ribs knitted, the sooner you can boss everyone around again. Soft Leader worries me.’

‘I am not going into that thing on an empty stomach,’ he tells them, and is pleasantly surprised to hear Dazkar laugh behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am scolding myself for the dearth of Lance in this chapter. More Lance next time! More politics! More pining! More everything! (I'm so tired, guys)
> 
> My use of 'drama llama' is a tribute to Zemmiphobia, who wrote my very favourite [Dads of Marmora series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/670211) ever; bless you, Zemmiphobia, for setting me on this path.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, this is going to be a beast. Unfortunately the beast is unbeta'd, because I have not written fanfic in half a DECADE and not only do I not know where to find a beta, I am afraid to go looking because of crazy Discourse in the fandom. When the fic is done I will find someone to help me edit it. If you have any suggestions as to where to find a good beta who will enjoy Allurivan _and_ Sheith, drop me a note on [Tumblr](http://perevision.tumblr.com).
> 
> This all came about because I wanted to draw fanart for an Allurivan Princess Diaries/Beauty and the Beast post-war chivalric romance comedy...but it didn't exist, so I realised I had to write it. If you want to follow my rambling thoughts on it plus occasional art, it's on my [As You Wish fic tag](http://perevision.tumblr.com/tagged/as-you-wish-fic).


End file.
